


APʘLISMʘNʘ

by Gravityfair



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Depression, F/M, Fantasy, Magic, Modern Day, Mystery, Romance, Suspense, Violence, strange
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 07:12:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4597590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gravityfair/pseuds/Gravityfair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman has holes in her past & something strange in her future. What happens when she has no choice but to remember a face that was thought to be long gone from her life? WARNING: This tale is very different from the Disney movie. It's darker and stranger and much more fun. Although I completely adore the movie, I can't help but put a MAD twist on such a beautiful story. Enjoy at your own discretion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	APʘLISMʘNʘ

**Author's Note:**

> ONE MORE THING: this is set in a COMPLETE alternate universe. The castle is still enchanted and Beast is still BEAST, but the girl's life is... Well, you'll see. See you soon! ...And for those of you following my Harry Potter fanfic, I'm still writing it, so no worries.

  **DISCLAIMER: YOU KNOW I DON'T OWN BEAUTY AND THE BEAST SO DON'T EVEN PRETEND.... BECAUSE I DON'T.**

 

My eyes reflected the ghostly light from my computer screen, as my nimble fingers tapped carefully at the keys. My mind had long been wandering somewhere else, but my blue hues and slender digits had switched over to auto-pilot, thus I continued with the fated façade. It wasn't always like this. I was truly happy at one point in my life. Back when I was still seventeen. Back when I had enough courage to stomp out the world. And back when I still loved the snow and swimming. But now… Something triggered my reaction to the world on my twenty-first birthday. I can't remember. That was two years prior to this night in front of the glowing computer screen.  _Exactly_  two years. The inevitable day had come and gone again. I felt nothing. Every friend I had ever known was either dead or moved away. My parents: dead. Siblings: none.

_**saxman66:** _ _do you like it?_

My pupils narrowed, as they flashed to the screen again. They flickered over the sentence two more times, before my hands automatically typed a "yes". I'm not sure what my brain was thinking at the time. I'm not really sure that it was thinking at all. My heart was dead and my life was a sinking tar pit, destined for nothing but the drudging days of insipidness and maybe a little shame. Though, that thought (or lack-there-of the thought) didn't keep me from doing this every night. Not only was it unavoidably regular now, but this half an hour after work every night had become as much a part of me as Hydrogen was to Oxygen. It was no longer a shock or embarrassing, but it was no longer as satisfying as it used to be. Now it was just…  _routine._

Many people have a certain thing that they are accustomed to doing; something that they can't live without, that keeps them sane and whole; a  _hobby,_  so to speak… Well, this thing of mine was definitely not a hobby, since I got no pleasure out of the experience at all anymore. I'm not sure if I ever did. I  _thought_  I did. I don't even remember when it began… One day, it just happened. I'm just thankful that I was smart enough not to have my webcam on.

"Sax man sixty-six," I said aloud to myself.

He had a horribly cliché screen name; adding numbers at the end… I never understood why people did that. It was so completely… derivative. Not that it really bothered me that much. It was just a passing thought. Like, why couldn't they have thought of something better; something more unique? Whatever happened to originality? I guess, along with chivalry, it was dead. That made me a bit depressed. There were less and less things to look forward to everyday…

I plopped my chin in my hand and leaned on my elbow, watching carefully at his rhythmic pumping. I didn't know his real name, nor did I care to find out. There was no relationship there. No bond. No feelings. No responsibilities. Just a lust for oneself and self-satisfaction. He wasn't even a name to me. He was a pornographic scene that could be turned on or off at the click of a button. After watching this man masturbate nearly every night for over a year, things began to get dull… and familiar. Nothing ever changed. He did the same thing each night. He never made a sound. He was a picture on a screen. He didn't want to talk. He didn't care who watched him. He was just a pitiful being who scarcely ever stopped being horny… And I was the fuel to his fire.

_**saxman66:** _ _are you gonna turn the cam off?_

His message brought me back to the present and I looked up at the screen. All movement had ceased in his room. He was finished and was waiting for me to disconnect from his webcam. I don't know why, but his lack of sensitivity made me feel worthless. Before he had the chance to say anything else, I signed out of my instant messenger without another word.

Once my computer was fully shut down, and the crackling of the static across the screen had stopped, I walked the three steps to my bed and crawled onto it, kicking my slippers off in the process. My room was dark now. The only light came from the aquarium on the other side of the room. It was empty. Not even one little goldfish inhabited that tank. There was water in it, though, along with a bubbler, pebbles, a miniature stone castle, and synthetic plants, but nothing else. Nothing moved, except for the ripples on the surface of the water and the gentle swaying of the castle's plastic flags… I'd always planned to put something  _live_  in there. I just never got around to doing it. I could have walked the five blocks down to the pet store anytime I wanted, but… the aquarium felt forbidden to me. Only one thing belonged in there and I had yet to find it. If I ever dared put the wrong thing in there... It was like dancing on a grave.

Besides the constant burble of the tank, the only other noise in my bedroom was the faint  _tick tick_  of the clock on my wall. I'd had that clock for nearly three years. It was a gift to my own self, in a way. Mostly because it was cheap and I needed something to cover up the brown stain that defaced the bare, white walls of the room where I spent most of my time. This clock was different from others, however. It had pictures of different birds all the way around the rim and every hour ( _on_  the hour) it emitted the call of the bird whose turn it was to sing. This fact was unknown to me at the time that I purchased it. I didn't get much sleep that first night…

But, the clock didn't sing anymore. It hadn't for a long time. For two years it had been completely silent, except for the  _tick tick_  of its hands. I still remembered some of the songs, though. For example, at twelve o'clock the owl would hoot and at seven o'clock the robin would chirrup. But those were the only two that really stuck in my mind like thistle sticks to your clothes. They were the sounds that I fell asleep by and jolted awake to. Sometimes good, but mostly bad. I don't remember…

My room was simple, just as simple as my life. I had one single daybed against the wall with the window, on the opposite wall was the defective clock, below it was the small table that held my computer and fish tank, transverse from there was my closet, and on the remaining wall was my bedroom door. It sat diagonal from the end of my bed. I could see into the kitchen from where I lay. All the same, I couldn't see anything in there. Though, if I could, it wasn't much to look at; just a small sink and a stove that always ended up smoking, no matter what I was cooking.

I sighed as lightly as I could and shrugged out of my sweatshirt and jeans. Following this, I slipped slowly under my comforter and pulled the edge of it all the way up to my chin. Then I turned over on my side. That's the only way I could ever sleep and usually facing the door. I was twenty-three, but I still feared my own apartment sometimes. That's why I couldn't turn my back to it. I closed my eyes and let the burbling aquarium lull me to unconsciousness, my last thought of  _saxman66_  and if he actually played the saxophone. Then, after a dreamless sleep, I would awake the next morning and start the process of my life all over again…

* * *

 

I was half dreaming… But since I was half dreaming, that meant I was only half asleep. And that  _also_  meant that I was half awake. Either way, it startled me to complete awareness within less than a second, the train whistle. Yes, I heard a train, which is strange, since I live in an apartment downtown and the closest train is three miles away. I also live on the fourth floor and the whistle sounded like I'd been sleeping next to its railroad tracks. It was so loud that my ears were now ringing. I couldn't see anything for a while, either. Along with the ridiculous noise, I'd been blinded by a bright light that seemed to have come from nowhere. It was like I was honestly about to be struck by a train in my own apartment building… But as soon as my eyes focused on the doorway, everything was still and quiet again. The only light I saw was a ray of sunshine squeezing through my window's closed shades… It was morning.

Right on cue, my cell phone alarm began to beep annoyingly and my hand whipped out at once to seize it. I flipped it open and then flipped it closed again. Normally, I would have snoozed for another hour or so, but there was no way I could go back to sleep. Not with that train invading my conscience. So, I counted to three (and maybe a few more), took a deep breath (or two), and pushed myself up into a sitting position. That's when I noticed how utterly soaked my back was with sweat. The light t-shirt that once hung loosely on my body was now clinging annoyingly to my sticky skin. It really was infuriating.

I stripped the shirt off, getting angrier by the milliseconds, as I tried not to let it touch any other part of my body. My anger was set off like this sometimes; unexpectedly, unknowingly dangerous to my health, and quite often. Within a span of thirty seconds, however, I was back to my old self again, having no recollection of the steamed experience at all. It was a quirk of mine; a quirk that had no known origin, just like the brown stain behind my broken bird clock. Huh. Funny, but not worth an ounce of my memory, apparently.

It took me a minute to realize what time it was. Today was a Thursday. That meant I worked the second shift at the Concord Library. Why the hell would I set my alarm so early, if I was going into work at one o'clock in the afternoon? And, yes, that is when I looked at my phone and saw that it was…

_11:08_

Shit… I'd slept for nearly thirteen hours straight… and now I was already going back to work. Fortune was not on my side. In fact, I was almost certain that it was working against me.

Regardless, I set my bare feet on the carpeted floor and stood up. My head was swimming. It still wanted to be imbedded into the soft pillow on my bed. I felt the same, though I obviously had plenty of sleep. My arms stretched out before me to steady on the wall by my doorway. Once I collected myself and wiped the crust from my eyes, it was time for the morning ritual: a wine glass full of orange juice in the shower. It was seriously the only thing I ever had for breakfast and it always tasted better with the hot water rushing over my face. So, as I sipped my citrus liquids and sputtered away the streaming waters from my lips, I thought about the many things I could put in my aquarium. I'm sure it had something in there before. I just didn't remember… And, before I knew it, it was a half past 12 and time for me to go. I was  _going_  to grab something for lunch, but as I opened the refrigerator, I realized there was nothing in there, except for some old Arby's Sauce packets.

My brow rose. I never ate Arby's much.

The air outside was colder than I expected it to be. It was April (the 2nd, to be exact), so it really shouldn't have been that cold… But it was. I wrapped myself in the throw blanket I had stored in the backseat of my car and hugged it close to my body, as I steered the wheel with one hand. It was an unusually long drive to the library that day. Surprisingly, the fifteen to twenty minutes it took to get there had not seemed that long before, but now it was almost like I'd never done it before. I took the same roads and turns I always did; through the city, out of the city, and wove my way along the twisting path sandwiched between a wide, fast-flowing stream and Concord Wood. I didn't pass any other side roads or driveways until about five minutes into the thick trees. That's when the path split in two. Continuing down the one that I was already on, I stared down the separate road made of gravel. It branched off and laced through the evergreens somewhere.

I always passed that driveway. Or, at least, I  _thought_  it was a driveway. That's what it looked like to me, anyway. It didn't look as if anyone ever drove down it, though.  _I'd_  never seen anyone. I made a mental note of maybe turning into it sometime and finding out who lived down there…

As I progressed to my destination, the library's bell tower came into view over the top of the trees. And I say bell tower, because that's what it was, a bell tower. The Concord Library used to be an old church, set up in the middle of Concord Wood. It was built back when they had witch burnings and that sort of thing. A lot of people in town say that  _that's_ why it's in the middle of no where; so that nobody could here their screams for miles. I thought it was bullshit.

As I pulled into my usual parking space, I glanced at my phone once more.

_1:03_

Close enough. I knew we didn't get many people out here for books, anyway. People usually only came for one reason and that was because the bell tower stairwell was supposed to be the most haunted place in all of Concord, Colorado. I was skeptical, only because I wanted to fool myself into thinking it was all in my head; that there were no such things as spirits, ghosts, monsters, or anything that resembled such. However, the Concord Library was not a very pleasant place to be at night, especially if you're the only one left, because it's your night to close. Well, tonight was one of those nights. I was signed for staying until 9pm and closing. Oh well. I new it would be fine. As long as I just stayed away from any of the dark corners of rooms, staircases, bookshelves, open doors into dim rooms, and pretty much the entire place except for the lovely lit front counter. I swear, it was the only part of the entire building that was bright enough to scare away most of your fears and doubts.

I opened my door and stepped out of the car, throwing the blanket in the backseat again. Tonight was going to be a difficult shift if the temperature kept dropping like it was…

 


End file.
